


Hamsa Nava

by Nifflers_and_Crookshanks



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Inspired by Hamsa Naava song sequence, Romance, Smut, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nifflers_and_Crookshanks/pseuds/Nifflers_and_Crookshanks
Summary: Amarendra and Devasena spend a night on the swan boat as they embark on their life together.
Relationships: Amarendra Baahubali/Devasena
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	Hamsa Nava

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shrotibha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shrotibha/gifts).



> This fic is fulfilling a prompt @Shrotibha sent me on tumblr and is inspired by the song sequence of Hamsa Nava. As stated in the tags this work has very explicit sexual content in it, so please be aware of this before reading on.

The rajkumari can hear their gasps and scornful mutterings, but the whispers are nothing compared to the din of her beating heart loud inside her ears. So, she takes another step, toes digging ever so slightly into the strong muscle she walks upon. Her lover’s arm, however, does not falter. 

You are well named, she almost says, but Devasena has never been one for idle comments. She continues her regal promenade, her heel coming to rest on his far shoulder as she fixes her gaze to the sea before her. She does not dare to look, to see if her satisfied smile is mirrored on her lover’s lips, lest her cheeks turning a dusky shade akin to the roses of Kuntala’s gardens. The rajkumari does not blush in public either. Better they only know her for her bold nature, headstrong and brave, than the delicate heart that flutters like a small bird whenever she crosses a line. Better they remember their yuvrani as daring, challenging, rather than the shy maiden that grows bashful as she teases her love. 

It is only when Amarendra rises from the water to join her in their boat, so close that the blue of her silks grows dark with the droplets that drip from his mane, she sees the darkening in his eyes. He looks at her as though for the first time, so full of awe and amazement and something else so very primal, that for a moment she wonders if he beholds the effigies of the goddess with such adoration. 

“Mahakali stood upon Lord Shiva,” She says, her bejewelled hands twitching in her lap. 

“She danced, yuvrani,” Her corrects, offering a mischievous grin. 

Any princess with a sense of shame should grow bashful at such a remark, lower her eyes or cover her face, because her future husband has implied she ought to dance for him - Devasena refuses to release him from her stare. 

“Will you expect your rani to dance for you, raja?” Her eyebrow quirks challenge and his laughter is like the sunshine. 

“Only if you wish,” 

If Amarendra Baahubali, a man famously renowned not only for his skill in battle but also the integrity of his character, gives his intended a significant look no one said much of it - even if it was not the last of the significant looks on what would be a three day voyage. 

It begins coyly at first. She watches him from where she sits upon her throne, a tall and proud figure fanned by attendants as he stalks the length of the ship. He assesses the quality of rope, the sturdiness of the boards and finally the wheel’s sensitivity and all the while she is assessing him - or rather, appreciating. Devasena’s eyes linger on the hard lines of his muscles, so well defined even with his back and chest covered. His physique is unparalleled, she quickly decides, enchanted by the way the muscles ripple beneath the cloth and skin as he moves. Within a few moments she is day dreaming, wondering at how the strong arms she had walked upon might feel beneath her touch. 

The yuvrani, of course, would be embarrassed by the sheer severity of her longing were it not for the near constant feel of his own eyes on her. They are watchful, hungry and they send such a thrill through her that the princess wonders if she shakes whenever he nears. As she falls asleep to the rocking of the waves, Devasena decides her next strategy. 

The next day they share a meal on deck, the noon sun high in the sky and when the plates are cleared she stands. 

“Your Highness requested a dance,” She says, moving her lips slower when she sees that he watches them the most, “Who am I to refuse?” 

The golden blouse is tight across her chest, it always has been. So much so that her sister-in-law, so often understanding and lenient, would frown if she wore it without proper covering. But Devasena, if inexperienced, is not unknowledgeable. She is first and foremost a warrior, much of her time spent training in the armoury or on the battlefield and so she was removed from the romances of men, but certainly not their thoughts. Even the most upstanding of men, she knows, may be inclined to observe a woman’s more northerly gifts with great delight. 

The dance is an excellent cover for such a performance and the yuvrani even graces her future husband with another song, a fond little musing on swan boats and love. She does not know where she has heard it, and of course she changes the words at her will, but the melody she is sure is old, forever linked with the great love stories. Her tactics are a success, Devasena notes, when her bravery finally fails and she hides her face in his chest, his great heart hammering beneath her ear. 

That night the moon seems so bright and so close, the cool air caressing their skin, and the yuvrani can not think of a better setting for a seduction. After their evening walk about deck they come to a stand still, Amarendra’s words fading as he stops mid-sentence, mesmerised by her face for not the first time. Devasena seizes the opportunity, gradually leaning into him until she is invading his space. He continues to stand tall and upright, hands hovering over her body but not touching - refusing to permit what he aches for. 

Finally, she murmurs her love to him with her lips a mere breath away from his, moving to kiss him and he takes her head in his hands, bringing his mouth to hers. A warm arm seizes her about the waist and faintly the yuvrani realises that she is lost to him and this overwhelming infatuation. Her love for him, she now understands, has lit a great fire - a diya that has refused to extinguish and instead given it’s flame to a many thousand other lamps, lighting up the world itself. 

The servants have gone already, discreetly leaving their lord and lady to their own devices, for what ill could befall them now? The yuvrani has left her natal home. Even if she is not in a bridal procession, she is as good as married: there is no need for chaperones and scruples. As such, they need not steal into Amarendra’s cabin.

“I had thought we would wait until our wedding night,” He says when they come to sit on the edge of his great bed, a full feet apart and jittery. 

The fire they felt on the deck is gone, replaced by the realisation that their long suppressed desires no longer have any restraints. 

“I had thought I would have to smuggle you into my room some evening if I were to have my way with you,” Devasena answers, her amused tone hopefully concealing that she is watching his reaction to her words, “A bumbling simpleton is unlikely to reach such heights as to marry the yuvrani of Kuntala, after all,” 

“You thought we would of had an illicit romance?” 

“I knew your true identity would come to light - you and your uncle are a poor liars - but yes. I thought initially we would have to be more secretive,” 

Amarendra was too moral for such untoward liaisons, so of course the princess had indulged herself in dreaming of a what might have been; how she might have initiated some torrid affair with the strange, strong man that was so much more than what met the eye. Ordering her maids bundle him in cloaks and bring him to her chambers, before lying herself before him on the bed and having him make love to her with such vigour she woke the entire household up with her cries was one idea. Then they would of had to marry the yuvrani to Shivdu, whoever he was. 

But when her intended asks after her plans, Devasena finds she can not utter them.

“And tell me, how exactly did you plan to seduce me?” Baahu grins, genuinely intrigued and his princess pauses, uncertain. 

How can she say such things? Some thoughts rarely sound well once they are spoken and the proud yuvrani can not bear the thought of speaking such intimate ideas and earning a rapprochement from him. 

Amarendra, as always, seems to understand her mind. 

“You may be courageous, Devasena, but you are just as I. Neither one of us have done this before,” His tone is soft, as gentle as the hand that comes to cup her face. 

“I am not frightened,” She quickly answers. 

Devasena has been warned of the perils of wedding nights. Brides to be were terrorised by stories of such things, that every honest woman had assured her were mostly exaggerated tales meant to horrify girls that were perhaps a tad too eager. She refused to be cowed by them. Pain, she knew and could bear. It was the vulnerability that scared her the most 

“I did not say you were,” He says, “But you are uncertain,” 

“I am surprised that you say you are unfamiliar with such things, that is all,” It’s an offhanded comment and his stared forces her to elaborate, “You are Amarendra Baahubali, the future Maharaja of Mahishmati. You are legendary beyond the walls of your kingdom, but I am sure there are many women within them that would have liked you to keep your eyes solely on them,” 

“There were some who displayed some interest,” He admits, almost embarrassed, “But I always thought they were not who I was meant to be with. They were not you, Deva,” 

Devasena can not help but smile at that, lips turning upwards as she feels heat grow on her face. 

“Ah! Her Highness the Yuvrani of Kuntala is blushing,” Amarendra says in delight, catching a finger beauty her chin and drawing her face closer so he might kiss her cheeks, “Will your cheeks take on further colour if I say you are the only one I have ever wanted? The only one I wished to kiss, to hold, to touch?” 

His lips are tender against her skin and Devasena is surprised by the feelings in her stomach, the press in her chest that calls for a little hum of appreciation within her throat. 

“Then why don’t you?” She asks, “Why so restrained?” 

Disarming a foe in combat often requires a series of precise moves, but in conversation the yuvrani finds that her future husband can be overcome in a second. Amarendra Baahubali blinks once and then twice, clearly stunned by her open challenge, and his intended series the opportunity to take control. Devasena begins to pull at his clothes furiously, working to divest him of the gold about his neck and the orange and red of his silks, all the while he laughs at the determination with which she does so. Soon enough, he is shirtless before her, vast expanses of dark brown skin revealed to her and she hesitates, a palm of a hand mere inches away from his chest. He wraps his fingers about it and guides it to his abdomen, carefully watching her response. She strokes his muscled abdomen, his chest and works her hand up to his shoulders, his back. 

She supposes he enjoys the sensation of her caress, humming low as she traces his back and the sound delights her more than anything else she has ever experienced before. Devasena pushes forward to further undress the lower half of his body, gasping as her object of search springs free. 

“That is…” She murmurs, eyes flitting to and from the new sight, unsure of where they should land, “That is not going to fit,” 

Amarendra, despite himself, bursts out laughing. 

“I’m sure it will,” He says, reaching out to wrap his hands about her waist, “My yuvrani was made for me and me for her,” 

The very thought sends a thrill her, that the great hardness protruding from her lover was fashioned to settle deep within her, and the space between her legs grows even wetter. So, she does not stop him as his fingers begin to stroke the ties of her blouse at her back, instead leaning closer to kiss him again with her tongue delving into his mouth. He moans in response, pushing her back so that he might feel the contours of her mouth and taste her as her blouse comes free. Then he’s sucking at her neck, kissing her shoulders and down her chest until he’s pulling back, sitting on his heels to admire the two perfect peaks revealed to him. 

Devasena’s body has been trained for battle, well toned and thick instead of lithe and lovely. Her own kingdom, she knows, prefers women of a rounder disposition, but in the seconds that pass, Amarendra’s gaze not leaving the dark nipples that have hardened for him, she wonders if that is the case in Mahishmati. The moment of doubt, however, passes as his large hands come to cup her full breasts and she releases a shuddering breath. The sound unnerves him and Baahu briefly removes his hands only to have her lean into them with a half-whine that surprises even her. With a grin, he ducks his hand and promptly takes a nipple into his mouth, lavishing it with his tongue before beginning to suck. His strong arms hold her tight across her back as Devasena leans her head back, a gasping moan escaping her lips as she thinks that she could dwell in the pleasurable prison of his hold for a hundred long years so long as he had his mouth on her. 

“Blessed are the mountains of Kuntala,” He says, pausing for breath before he moves to the other tender mound of flesh, teeth catching on the second nipple in a way that causes her to dig her nails into his shoulders. He groans and the sound echoes deep inside of her, the low moan prompting an answering high pitched sound to gather in the back of her throat. 

“Baahu,” her face is red as she says it, but with his lustful eyes it’s easy to find the courage, “If I am to be Mahishmati’s maharani, I should know what my land looks like,” 

“Oh?” He removes his head from her chest long enough for her to see a twinkle in his eye.

She presses further, adjusting her legs so that she is now fully deposited in his lap, grinding down on the hardness that had stiffened against her stomach moments ago. 

“Are there any strong, long towers in Mahishmati I should know about?” 

Amarendra chuckles, before his arms engulf her once more and he licks into her mouth with a renewed urgency. 

“I want you,” Devasena sighs as she breaks the kiss. Embolden by desire, she slowly removes what is left of her sari, uncovering herself entirely. As he drinks in what she has revealed, she takes his hand in hers and places it on her upper thigh. “I want to feel your hands on me,” When he is slow in taking the initiative, the yuvrani pushes it higher still, dipping between her legs until she sees what he is touching register on his face and she knows he can feel the warm wetness. 

He kisses her, fingers slipping through her damp folds to find the bundle of nerves he seeks. He rubs the tips against it, a little tease and Devasena grins her hips down against his hand, seeking further friction. 

“Are you using me, yuvrani, for your earthly desires?” Amarendra teases still, applying more pressure. 

In answer, his lover invades his mouth, sucking at his tongue until they are both groaning and breathless. 

“I thought I might have dragged Shivdu to my chambers,” She gasps, breath hitching as his finger catches on that one spot on her bud that leaves her thighs shaking. 

“A simpleton would be confused by your intentions,” He returns to the spot again, mouth open as he basks in her now open moans of pleasure. 

“Of course, but I knew you were no simpleton,” The yuvrani replies, “I’d even thought of tying you to my bed, if I could find ties strong enough to bind you,” 

What has possessed her to say such things she does not know, but Devasena finds she does not care as Amarendra increases his efforts two fold, nipping at her jawline as she begins to shake. 

“Then I would not have the use of my hands,” 

“It’s not your hands I want, Baahu,” Her tongue is licking at his ear, when he does it, moving his fingers ever so slightly in just the right time to send her over the edge and suddenly the yuvrani is quaking all over, biting down hard on his ear lobe with the thought of him hard inside of her. 

Even with his woman left speechless and panting, Amarendra remains mischievous. 

“What do you want, yuvrani?” He asks, with such a smug and self-satisfied grin that she can’t help herself. 

Devasena shoves him, with enough force to some how move him. The very fact that she is able to shocks both him and her and taken by surprise, the yuvrani makes an easy victim of him, pushing him even further back. She finally hooks a leg over his hip, straddling him and Amarendra falls back, surrendering into the bed. 

“My conqueror,” He says, playfully feigning an attempt to break free of her grip - for in her assault the princess has seized his wrists as well. In response, Devasena tightens her thighs about his hips, pulling his hands down to clutch at her hips and rear. 

“Your wife,” She counters, rubbing against his hardness. 

She continues that for a little while longer, enjoying how he feels against her, before shuffling further down to hover above him. It is briefly awkward, arranging herself until she is atop him, and then she hesitates. Briefly, Devasena thinks of the pain she has been warned about. But she is a warrior, she has fought battles, been cut and stabbed by enemy blades and even scathed by an arrow on one occasion. It is not a good battle without some injury. Eager, she pushes herself down, gripping at him as he fills her. 

It is slow at first, his tip at first barely pushing inside of her, and then suddenly all at once and there is nothing she can think other than the sensation is overwhelming, a burning stretch that is both painful and exquisite. Amarendra clutches her face to his, kissing her fiercely, and then he is canting his hips upwards, moaning in her ear and she buries her fist in his hair. It takes a while for them to find a rhythm, but then Devasena is riding him, ridging him hard and fast and all either of them can do is cry out in pleasure. 

“Do you like what you see?” She eventually asks, watching as he stares at her breasts, bouncing vigorously as she moves against him. 

In answer, Amarendra’s grip on her rear tightens and he lifts her up, rising so that he may suck at her nipples once more. 

“Baahu!” 

“Devasena!” 

She guides her breasts to his mouth, clutching him tighter against her as he drags her up and down his length, and that is enough for the yuvrani to let out a quiet moan, more gasp than anything, before collapsing onto him. He swiftly follows, burying his face in her hair as he groans through his release. 

The couple doze for a few hours, until Amarendra wakes to feel an incessant wriggling at his side. 

“We will have an early day tomorrow,” He murmurs, voice groggy with sleep, “It’s better we get our rest,” 

That does nothing, however, to deter the small hand about his length. 

“Mmh,” There is a small sound in his ear, what could be a petulant whine from the yuvrani were she so inclined, “I need you inside me,”

Amarendra is in no position to refuse, his beautiful princess’s naked body pressed against him all he needs to roll over on top of her and renew his assault on her breasts. Within a moment he is pulling her thighs up about his hips, pushing inside of her and Devasena bows her head back, exposing her neck to his affections. He is so concentrated on relishing the soft skin at her collar bone, keeping a relentless pace inside of her, that it takes a while to register her more than audible moans. 

“Not so loud,” He whispers after one particularly loud cry of encouragement from her. 

“I thought you enjoyed my singing,” The yuvrani laughs, grinning as his length glides out and then back into her. 

“We are not alone on this swan ship,” 

“They are my people,” Devasena answers between his thrusts, “My dignity is not to be questioned. A foreign ruler, however… Now, I think they may just judge you based on your performance,”

And then she giggles, which if it weren’t so surprising a sound Amarendra may have just whooped for joy because he is the one who has evoked such a sound from her - even more rewarding than her cries of pleasure. He knows she is goading him on, but the young man has never refused a challenge. 

“Then prepare to sing louder, Maharani,” He declares, seizing her legs to drag her further down the bed as she squeals in delight before he positively plows into her, knowing the wind from her lungs as she moans even louder, urging him on. 

“Yes, yes,” She chants, “Baahu!” 

It is not long before dawn when the future king of Mahishmat’s sleep is disturbed once more by his yuvrani. 

“Please,” She is whispering, lips against his cheek. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I am mortal,” Amarendra answers, “And my pretty wife has exhausted me,” She is not his wife, not yet, but with her naked in his bed she might as well be. 

“Your pretty wife is wet and wanting, Raja,” Devasena says, lips gently pressing against his, “She wants her brave warrior to fill her,” Her voice is thick with yearning and Baahu makes the not unhappy realisation that his future wife may very well be insatiable.

“You are a temptress,” He playfully scolds, before acquiescing to her pleas, “Turn around,” 

“Why?” 

“Because it can be done like this and I am much too tired to move,” 

Devasena turns so that her rear is pressed against his front, his arms wrapped about her. Once she is secure in his embrace, he gently lifts her, finding a way between her legs until he is groaning in her ear, moving shallowly in and out. He kisses at her neck, fingers making little circles about her bud and the yuvrani positively keens as she hits her peak, shuddering about him.   
  
Amarendra groans once or twice and afterwards lays a kiss to her cheek, drifting off with her still in his hold. 


End file.
